Yesterday at lunch, Rev. Nancy and I had a short conversation with our cashier about her tattoos. She had a beautiful array of rainbow tattoos covering her entire left arm. Rainbow Brite was there with her horse, as well as She-Ra, Care Bears, and pictures of other children's toys from the 1980s. She said that when she was a kid, the most exciting event for her and her siblings was when their mother took them to McDonald's. Her arm represented happiness from her childhood and the joy she received when she got a toy out of her Happy Meal. Her right arm was bare and she said that she was considering, since only girl toys were represented on her left arm, that she would fill her right arm with pictures of Happy Meal toys for boys.
In my new pursuit of story, I recognized that this tattooed lady was using her arms to tell the story of her life. Excited, I've been brainstorming other ways that people use to tell their life story. Everyone has a story inside of them, and we all use different ways to express it.
Personally, I write in my journal and on this blog. But there are so many other ways that stories are told. My mother-in-law collects antiques and figurines. She can tell you a story about each one.
My husband Adam's engineering story is told in the buildings he helps build.
Claire and Paul both can tell you their life story from their stuffed animal/doll collection. Each toy has a story about how they love the person that gave it to them and the special circumstances in which they received it.
Jesus' life story is recorded in the Bible. It would be interesting to note, though, how many people's life stories have been entwined in recording Jesus' story. The oral story-tellers, the scribes, the archaeologists, modern day translators, all have spent countless years focusing on the importance of the Biblical stories. I wonder if any of them have or had Bible tattoos. "This was when I translated Exodus. Dude, what a battle that was. We had scrolls all over the place!" (Because since I've never met a Bible translator, I can imagine that some of them are surfer guys)
For anyone needing help in recording their life story the more traditional way, the website Proust will help you do it. Each week they email you a question/writing prompt and then you go log-on to record your answer. Eventually your life story and/or the story of those you love will be recorded. I also have a handy book called The Book of Myself that is full of question prompts to help you write your own autobiography.
When I'm at school today, I will be seeking out more ways to tell stories. And no, you won't find me at the tattoo parlor tonight.
Here's a place where Sarah writes what's on her heart and mind for whomever will read it. Sometimes it's hilarious, sometimes it's little pieces of life that I'm grateful for. Enjoy!
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
Seeing the world through writer's eyes
Since I was a young girl, I have enjoyed writing. I have boxes of journals dating all the way back to second grade when I had my first crush and though I can't remember his name, I can remember the fun and excitement of writing in my pink journal with the gold heart clasp that locked.
When I look back on my life and my journals, I can see how much I've grown. I can relive some uncomfortable moments and happy times. One day I will offer them to my children as an emotional history of their mother.
I have a journal on me at all times. In my purse, in my car door, in my kitchen, in the living room, in the bedroom. The thought is that by practicing and writing down what I feel and what I observe, I can get better at it and one day write a book.
One day I will write a book. It has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember, but only recently did I realize that I won't have a "road to Damascus" experience. I had misplaced hope that I will be travelling down the road and see a bright light and hear angels sing while I obtain enlightenment. Apparently writers don't wake up one morning with a book already written in their head. They don't sit down at the computer and pour out perfection.
In her book Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott describes seeing the world through "writer's eyes." Basically that means paying close attention to the world around you and listening and watching for story.
"There is real skill in hearing all those words that real people--and your characters--say and to recording what you have heard--and the latter is or should be more interesting and concise and even more true than what was actually said."
So I'm practicing paying attention. I'm listening, really listening, to people around me and observing. I'm searching for stories. I love a good story and I'm learning to write one.
When I look back on my life and my journals, I can see how much I've grown. I can relive some uncomfortable moments and happy times. One day I will offer them to my children as an emotional history of their mother.
I have a journal on me at all times. In my purse, in my car door, in my kitchen, in the living room, in the bedroom. The thought is that by practicing and writing down what I feel and what I observe, I can get better at it and one day write a book.
One day I will write a book. It has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember, but only recently did I realize that I won't have a "road to Damascus" experience. I had misplaced hope that I will be travelling down the road and see a bright light and hear angels sing while I obtain enlightenment. Apparently writers don't wake up one morning with a book already written in their head. They don't sit down at the computer and pour out perfection.
In her book Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott describes seeing the world through "writer's eyes." Basically that means paying close attention to the world around you and listening and watching for story.
"There is real skill in hearing all those words that real people--and your characters--say and to recording what you have heard--and the latter is or should be more interesting and concise and even more true than what was actually said."
So I'm practicing paying attention. I'm listening, really listening, to people around me and observing. I'm searching for stories. I love a good story and I'm learning to write one.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
What floors and zombies have in common
Even though I won't do it, I was able to learn fascinating stories about haunted houses yesterday while I was in the safety and sunlight of my own home.
Our flooring contractor showed up to measure the floor in car that had a Zombie Response Team logo on it. I was curious about the logo on his car, so I asked him.
When he's not measuring floors, this guy is on staff at The Parker House, a haunted house located in Denton.
Here are some facts that I learned about haunted houses:
1. If you are in the industry, or in the know, you call them "haunts." My new friend kept saying, "The haunt I work does it this way..."
2. Most haunts have story lines to go with them. This was probably the most fascinating fact to me and one that I kept asking him more about. For his haunt, the organizers did historical research, found a creepy story, and built a haunted house around it. I had assumed haunts were just collections of really scary things, but most of them tell a story line. You can read the story for his haunt on the website. Haunts with stories are called "theme haunts."
3. There are "touch haunts" and "no-touch haunts." The Parker House is currently a no-touch haunt, but discussions are underway to make a change. In their current position their staff consists of many teenagers, and no one under the age of 18 is desirable for a "touch haunt." I incorrectly assumed that had to do with hormones, but in reality it has to do with controlled touching. Touching in a situation like this is just supposed to be a gentle brush of the legs or upper arm and teens just have a harder time with that.
4. This place is so organized, they even have a 10 year plan. Their latest addition will be an asylum, where their main character is sent to after she murders people. Eventually they will open a small bed and breakfast on the property so people can spend the night at a haunt.
5. In the past, blood was a mixture of Karo syrup and food coloring, but not anymore. Karo syrup attracts ants and food coloring stains skin and clothes. The blood on the walls of this haunt is made of Elmer's glue and leather tanner. Mixed together, this gives the blood a wet, exposed blood look. (Apparently the color in the tanner is much more authentic than food coloring.)
6. Even though haunts are only open during the Halloween season, the staff literally works year-round to build and organize it. My friend had just worked late two nights before.
7. Working at a haunt is a lifestyle, not just a job. My friend had tattoos on both arms that were related to his haunt. In telling me about his haunt, he showed me his tattoos as a visual for the story. "This part looks like this...."
8. Port-a-potties are located right next to the entrance. This is crucial. Go to the bathroom before you enter a haunt. I was unable to get any hard numbers, but using the bathroom on yourself, vomiting, or passing out is a common occurrence for visitors of this particular haunt. This is handled in this way: 1. Wet or soil yourself? Move along. Port-a-potties are outside. 2. Vomit? The haunt pauses and distracts other visitors while cleanup takes place. 3. Pass out? Medical attention immediately.
I was grateful to this gentleman and thanked him several times for giving me all this information. I have much more respect for haunts now. As he left, I asked him about his schedule, because he obviously has a full-time job working for the flooring people and he also pulls in close to full-time during off season for the haunt. He doesn't mind. It's what he loves to do. I congratulated him on his luck in his ability to spend time doing what he loves. "You really are blessed, you know." He agreed.
I shared all this information last night with Adam. His eyes began twinkling and he asked me, "So will you go again now?" No, sorry. But isn't it fascinating?
Friday, April 5, 2013
The first 35 years of my life
I turn 35 tomorrow. Here's a short autobiography of my life so far:
I was born at Harris Hospital downtown. Some could say I was born a Methodist.
My parents went to the Birdville ISD school board and petitioned for me to attend the elementary school of their choice because the one in our area was across from the high school. As I remember, they said they were afraid high school kids would try to sell me drugs. I attended Snow Heights Elementary. In my day, Snow wasn't just the name of the school. It was an all-white campus.
I received something of a culture shock in middle school when I switched to attend the correct school. Haltom Middle was a cultural melting pot, and I loved that about it. I didn't know anyone at first, though, so for my first year, my best friend was a book at lunch.
I caught my social stride at Haltom High where I was friends with everyone and usually succeeded in saying a personalized greeting to every single person that crossed my path.
During my senior year in high school, my father's job moved him to Austin. I stayed in Fort Worth with my mother so I could graduate from Haltom and she could sell the house.
I went to Tarrant County Junior College and made great friends with a girl who was dating my future husband. He was extremely skinny and I remember wondering about his nutrition. We all hung out together for a bit. I worked for the school newspaper and in my spare time, wrote features for two local branches of the Star-Telegram.
During college, I roomed with my uncle. He's eight years older than me and a world record holder in wheelchair races. He was an aerospace engineer starting his own business. I pitched in on rent and made up the extra with cooking and cleaning. He also was in a christian rock band and I was a huge groupie. We had a lot of fun.
At the University of Texas at Arlington I wrote for the school newspaper and magazine, eventually becoming the last editor of the Tempo. Adam and I became best friends and eventually we shared enough beers and laughs that we found out we were in love.
The week after college graduation, Adam and I married and moved to Fort Worth. We visited many churches of various denominations but finally ended up in a pretty building on Camp Bowie. We still attend Arlington Heights UMC. For me at least, joining the Methodist church was like finding my home. Although I was raised, saved, and baptized in a Southern Baptist Church, the more I learned about the Methodist doctrines and beliefs, I realized I had been a closet Methodist my whole life.
My final years at UTA, I worked at Half Price Books, but when we moved to Fort Worth, I decided to use my college degree and become a teacher. The school I taught at was the cultural opposite of the one I attended growing up. I learned just as much as my students when I worked there.
In 2005 I got my wisdom teeth removed, we had just bought a house, and I decided, while on painkillers, that it was time for us to start having children around the house. I didn't change my mind when my gums healed. Claire was born the next year.
Adam and I attended Love and Logic parenting classes, which set us on a parenting style we stick to together. I continued to teach for a couple of years.
Paul William Boyette was born and I quit teaching for pay to be a stay-at-home mom and teach my own children.
The year before Claire started kindergarten, I began working at church. Paul still attends preschool there. Now I rotate between church work and tutoring elementary students on reading.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I am mother to two kids, two dogs, two fish, and one hamster. I am wife of Adam. I am a Jesus lover, a writer, a church staffer, a teacher, a cook, a voracious reader, and a person constantly striving to improve myself. I love to help others, give hugs, and talk to friends. My house is a mess but my kids are smart. I am part of a happy family. I am content.
I was born at Harris Hospital downtown. Some could say I was born a Methodist.
My parents went to the Birdville ISD school board and petitioned for me to attend the elementary school of their choice because the one in our area was across from the high school. As I remember, they said they were afraid high school kids would try to sell me drugs. I attended Snow Heights Elementary. In my day, Snow wasn't just the name of the school. It was an all-white campus.
I received something of a culture shock in middle school when I switched to attend the correct school. Haltom Middle was a cultural melting pot, and I loved that about it. I didn't know anyone at first, though, so for my first year, my best friend was a book at lunch.
I caught my social stride at Haltom High where I was friends with everyone and usually succeeded in saying a personalized greeting to every single person that crossed my path.
During my senior year in high school, my father's job moved him to Austin. I stayed in Fort Worth with my mother so I could graduate from Haltom and she could sell the house.
I went to Tarrant County Junior College and made great friends with a girl who was dating my future husband. He was extremely skinny and I remember wondering about his nutrition. We all hung out together for a bit. I worked for the school newspaper and in my spare time, wrote features for two local branches of the Star-Telegram.
During college, I roomed with my uncle. He's eight years older than me and a world record holder in wheelchair races. He was an aerospace engineer starting his own business. I pitched in on rent and made up the extra with cooking and cleaning. He also was in a christian rock band and I was a huge groupie. We had a lot of fun.
At the University of Texas at Arlington I wrote for the school newspaper and magazine, eventually becoming the last editor of the Tempo. Adam and I became best friends and eventually we shared enough beers and laughs that we found out we were in love.
The week after college graduation, Adam and I married and moved to Fort Worth. We visited many churches of various denominations but finally ended up in a pretty building on Camp Bowie. We still attend Arlington Heights UMC. For me at least, joining the Methodist church was like finding my home. Although I was raised, saved, and baptized in a Southern Baptist Church, the more I learned about the Methodist doctrines and beliefs, I realized I had been a closet Methodist my whole life.
My final years at UTA, I worked at Half Price Books, but when we moved to Fort Worth, I decided to use my college degree and become a teacher. The school I taught at was the cultural opposite of the one I attended growing up. I learned just as much as my students when I worked there.
In 2005 I got my wisdom teeth removed, we had just bought a house, and I decided, while on painkillers, that it was time for us to start having children around the house. I didn't change my mind when my gums healed. Claire was born the next year.
Adam and I attended Love and Logic parenting classes, which set us on a parenting style we stick to together. I continued to teach for a couple of years.
Paul William Boyette was born and I quit teaching for pay to be a stay-at-home mom and teach my own children.
The year before Claire started kindergarten, I began working at church. Paul still attends preschool there. Now I rotate between church work and tutoring elementary students on reading.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I am mother to two kids, two dogs, two fish, and one hamster. I am wife of Adam. I am a Jesus lover, a writer, a church staffer, a teacher, a cook, a voracious reader, and a person constantly striving to improve myself. I love to help others, give hugs, and talk to friends. My house is a mess but my kids are smart. I am part of a happy family. I am content.
 |
| Paul and I at the Mother-Son Dance in Grapevine this year. |
Sunday, February 3, 2013
2013--The Year in Review: January
January wrapped up last week and I thought I'd inventory some thoughts that have been rattling through my head:
1. Squirrels make nests.
I learned this just last week by observation and then asked friends for more information. Apparently if a nest is at the very top of a tree and it's messy instead of a nice, structured pile of branches, it's probably a squirrel's nest.
2. I don't have to "get it together" before I show up.
I got this from Anne Lamott's book, Help, Thanks, Wow, which I highly recommend. I also read it in two hours, so I figure most people can read it in a day. She talked about how many people think they have to get their life in order before they start a regular prayer life, but how a regular prayer life actually helps people get their life in order. I've found this concept true in many parts of my life. If I can just show up, I often can "get it together" there. (My eventual hope for this blog is that it will be a place where I "get it together" so I can publish something sometime.)
3. My body doesn't end at my neck.
I often focus on nurturing my brain with books or my spirit with prayer and Bible study. I'm not so good on nurturing my body with anything other than delicious food. Over the Christmas holidays, I threw out my back. This was fixed when a friend pushed certain muscle points on my stomach to put my back muscles in place. Honestly, it had been a long time since I had felt muscles in my stomach. They don't go away just because I don't think about them! So this led me to realize that I should be more intentional about taking care of my physical body. I've been doing yoga with my friendly instructor on the Wii.
4. I am not a garbage disposal.
If others in the house don't enjoy the meal I cook for them, I don't have to eat it all. If others sit and talk to me and tell me their problems, I don't have to take them on as my own. I don't have to keep every scrap of paper that might be informative some day or every invention of recyclables the kids give me.
5. Sometimes my job is to listen.
Our friend, Jason Valendy recently wrote a post about monologues in church (Read it here.) This caused me to do some thinking and Adam and I have been having discussions on monologues verses dialogues. At a fast-increasing rate, I am caught in conversations that become just my job to listen. If you know me, I do often talk a lot, so I when I'm in conversation with someone, I try to continue the dialogue, add comments, whatever. But lately, and at random places and times, I have become aware of the need to just zip my lips and listen. At the park the other day, a man was commenting on my dog. I wanted to tell him the story of Sugar Dot, but it turned out that he needed to talk to someone. He ended up speaking to me for fifteen minutes about his dog that had died, and that led to a conversation about broken marriages, custody battles, and moving back home. When I had to leave, I felt bad for him. He didn't even know my name, and I didn't get a chance to tell him. He needed someone to talk to.
In a world where people are increasing their relationships via social media and decreasing their face to face contact, I am consciously trying to pay attention and listen where needed. I am trying to recognize the places where dialogue isn't needed, but an audience for a monologue is.
1. Squirrels make nests.
I learned this just last week by observation and then asked friends for more information. Apparently if a nest is at the very top of a tree and it's messy instead of a nice, structured pile of branches, it's probably a squirrel's nest.
2. I don't have to "get it together" before I show up.
I got this from Anne Lamott's book, Help, Thanks, Wow, which I highly recommend. I also read it in two hours, so I figure most people can read it in a day. She talked about how many people think they have to get their life in order before they start a regular prayer life, but how a regular prayer life actually helps people get their life in order. I've found this concept true in many parts of my life. If I can just show up, I often can "get it together" there. (My eventual hope for this blog is that it will be a place where I "get it together" so I can publish something sometime.)
3. My body doesn't end at my neck.
I often focus on nurturing my brain with books or my spirit with prayer and Bible study. I'm not so good on nurturing my body with anything other than delicious food. Over the Christmas holidays, I threw out my back. This was fixed when a friend pushed certain muscle points on my stomach to put my back muscles in place. Honestly, it had been a long time since I had felt muscles in my stomach. They don't go away just because I don't think about them! So this led me to realize that I should be more intentional about taking care of my physical body. I've been doing yoga with my friendly instructor on the Wii.
4. I am not a garbage disposal.
If others in the house don't enjoy the meal I cook for them, I don't have to eat it all. If others sit and talk to me and tell me their problems, I don't have to take them on as my own. I don't have to keep every scrap of paper that might be informative some day or every invention of recyclables the kids give me.
5. Sometimes my job is to listen.
Our friend, Jason Valendy recently wrote a post about monologues in church (Read it here.) This caused me to do some thinking and Adam and I have been having discussions on monologues verses dialogues. At a fast-increasing rate, I am caught in conversations that become just my job to listen. If you know me, I do often talk a lot, so I when I'm in conversation with someone, I try to continue the dialogue, add comments, whatever. But lately, and at random places and times, I have become aware of the need to just zip my lips and listen. At the park the other day, a man was commenting on my dog. I wanted to tell him the story of Sugar Dot, but it turned out that he needed to talk to someone. He ended up speaking to me for fifteen minutes about his dog that had died, and that led to a conversation about broken marriages, custody battles, and moving back home. When I had to leave, I felt bad for him. He didn't even know my name, and I didn't get a chance to tell him. He needed someone to talk to.
In a world where people are increasing their relationships via social media and decreasing their face to face contact, I am consciously trying to pay attention and listen where needed. I am trying to recognize the places where dialogue isn't needed, but an audience for a monologue is.
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